The movie trailer for the Coen Brother’s newest movie, A Serious Man, has just been released. Take a look:

The movie looks really good, but that trailer is incredible, isn’t it? I’m not sure if I’ve seen a more artful trailer ever. That incessant beat from the head hitting the wall and the accumulating noises from other parts is so crafty and well done. It’s so much more effective than any voice over could be. Did the Coen Brothers edit this trailer? Probably not, but to whoever did, I see a Golden Trailer Award in your future (that’s right, there is an award for movie trailers).

Watching it made me think of this blog post I wrote for a different blog about The Planet of the Apes and its trailer. I’ve pasted the post, along with the trailer, below.

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So, I just watched the original Planet of the Apes today. I was really just looking for something to watch while I ate lunch, but I got completely sucked in. And being unemployed, I got the time. I watched it all the way through, and I’ve got to say, the movie was fucking good. Not just fun to watch, but legitimately good.

I think it’s interesting that we all know the plot, we all know the quotes. It’s one of those movies that’s been inaugurated into our pop-culture, so much so that it feels like we’ve all seen it, without actually seeing it. When it’s referenced, we all get it, and can laugh at jokes about it, and make our own jokes without ever having to actually see it (this idea can also relate to the DVD collection, or the DVR, where just owning a copy of a movie gives us a level of satisfaction nearly equal to that of actually seeing the movie, but that’s a different topic for another time).

Back to movie. It’s great. The first quarter is masterfully suspenseful, packed with incredible landscape shots and great cinematography and music. Then come the apes, which are surprisingly not too dated. Then we get to an examination of ethics and humanity, then a sweet reveal, which we all know, but still gives you the chills, because Charlton Heston really was a sick actor. The movie also made me further realize how much the Mark Walburg one sucked.

How great is that trailer? Sure there’s some cheesy voice over, but you get to hear the man himself, Charlton Heston, explain the film. And how about that “This is a madhouse!” part? There’s a well made movie trailer.

A few Saturday’s ago, in accordance with what was an officially planned event (thanks to Grubard and his supposedly ironic facebooking), Stacey and I met Grubard and Julie (did you know they are dating on facebook?) at Tom’s Restaurant (not the Seinfeld one). It’s right next to my apartment (and therefore right next to Grubard’s too). It was a rainy rainy morning, but we stood in line outside anyway (I had heard such good things about this place, we decided it was worth it). The line moved pretty fast for what it was (and even went through half the restaurant inside, but even the wait was enjoyable, the reasons of which your about to find out) As we stood there, every three minutes (on average) an employee would walk up the line with a big tray of food – cookies, french toast sticks, sausages, strawberries and cream, and even mugs of coffee for everyone (cream and sugar if you wanted it). The owner (Gus) made himself known to everyone there, and was really funny and friendly; as if we’d been friends for years. And the people he really was friends with (of which there were quite a few) he treated even better, going as far as giving a little black boy a two minute bear hug and then a handful of money. And the food was good too (really really good).

Since moving to New York, I have embraced the brunch culture; although I unwittingly started this affair with brunch back in Boston, when on Friday mornings, tired, hung-over, and suffering after 11am math class, my roommate Greg and I would hop in my Subaru Legacy and go out for breakfast, each week trying to find and evaluate a new and unknown diner (The Tufts brunch scene was dominated by only two restaurants, where you would have to wait in enormous lines, with the people you didn’t want to talk to at the party at the night before, for the same food every week. These places were good, though). This weekly sojourn caught the attention of my other roommates and friends, and we would go venturing into Medford with increasing numbers, and even my current relationship with Stacey was, in a large part, founded on these mornings. Now, in New York, I have a neighborhood, a village, an island, five boroughs, a city to explore, two days a week. And for the months I’ve been here, and the months earlier spent visiting and crashing on floors, I hadn’t yet tried Tom’s, the fantastically reviewed and homey diner right next door to me. Quickly into our meal there and with great grinning mouths, Julie, Stacey, Grubard, and myself ecstatically claimed this was the best place we’d ever been to. Now with about a week to think and move past our original, excited hyperbole, the place has been properly digested in mind. It is great. But, are there any ways it could be better? Let’ see:

The Food:
It’s good. It’s great, really. But, it’s not fancy. Pretty standard breakfast fair – eggs, pancakes, waffles, french toast, etc. Not fancy is fine, but since I’m used to the east village, I generally see all sorts of fancy, specialized concoctions, and figured this was the NYC rule; so Tom’s could be seen as antiquated, un-hip. But, the food was good enough to cancel out any issues one might have had, and any frilly foods would have been completely wrong for this place, a rupturing and uneasy mixture. Furthermore, even though you had to choose from typical moring starches and proteins, Tom’s tweaked every dish, making the food unique and incredible. Dozens of different types of pancakes, even with corn or cranberries, chorizo with lemon instead of normal sausages, even three different types of butter, including cinnamon, strawberry, and mango.
The Food – I wouldn’t change anything.

The Waitstaff:
About four minutes after we ordered our food, Gus walked up behind Alex and Julie with four plates in his arms and amiably said “sorry about the long wait.” That should speak for itself.

But, if it doesn’t, more analysis: The real waiters were business like and swift. They did what they needed to, filled your coffee, and pretty much stayed out of the way. I like when waiters don’t interrupt too much, but if you don’t and want your waiter to be your thirty-minute friend, don’t worry, I think the attention and jokes one gets from Gus and his wife more than fill the empty void inside you that you need waitresses to occupy.

Any other ways the make the waitstaff better? Topless waitress: believe it or not, this idea has been tried and it failed. A donut store off the highway in Maine tried to mix sex and breakfast, but quickly went under. Health violations aside, making Tom’s anything but a family joint would ruin the aesthetic and consequently the enjoyment. For the same reasons I don’t really like eating at Hooters, lewdness and heart-warming food cannot connect pleasantly for me.

The Coffee:
Honestly, the coffee wasn’t great. It was watery and not very strong. But, it was cheap – less than a dollar – and I had a cup in my hand since I got into line, and the refills were free and prompt.

The Decor:
Like the food, the decor is an amalgamation of past virtues. A frantic amalgamation at that. The place is packed with old pictures and reviews, strung up with colored christmas lights, and perfumed by randomly set potted plants. Individual highlights from the menu are written on colored posters that polka-dot the walls. It’s a mess. It works. Unlike those family chain restaurants that cover their walls in old metal prints and antique furniture and sports equipment (I’ve always theorized that there is a catalog for those restaurants full of that random crap), the decorations seem genuine and sweet; a relic, like Gus himself.
Would I change the decor at all? More christmas lights? Naw, it’s good.

Can Tom’s be any better? Maybe lower the price by a dollar. That might be it.

Alex mentioned the ads for this show in the last post, but if you’ve been on a subway or bus in New York in the past two months you know about Elvis Costello’s new show “Spectacle” (and that Sundance blew all its ad dollars on pushing one show, sorry ‘Iconoclasts’). In the first episode, Costello interviews President Bill Clinton on how music has been important in his life. This is a relatively new stage for both people. We already know that Elvis Costello is a great musician, and still cool after twenty years, but his chops as a TV host are still unknown. We are already aware of Bill Clinton’s silver tongue, and can play a little sax, but that doesn’t guarantee a worthwhile television program.

Costello opens the show with a song, an up-tempo blues tune, and thing get rolling. Clinton walks out, shakes some hands, people cheer. He sits down, the interview begins. As soon as Clinton started talking I was hooked. Elvis asked pretty intelligent and provoking questions, and what the show became wasn’t a show about Elvis Costello at all, but rather a stage upon which Clinton was allowed to talk and talk, about music of all things. Listening to the former president, it seemed as if Clinton had been waiting over sixteen years for someone listen to him speak on the subject. Clinton’s certainly considered a smart man, and as far as public speakers go, I don’t think there are many living orators better. In my eyes, this televised dialogue just heightened the legacy of “Slick Willy.” Meanwhile, Costello faded into the background of his own show; something that only a skilled interviewer can do. He pretty much let Clinton talk for an hour; telling anecdotes and stories from his life. Bill’s extremely thoughtful and concerned, and a big jazz fan, and totally captivating. Did you know he received more musical scholarships than academic ones? And that’s from a Rhodes Scholar.

Enough of the boner Clinton gave me; let’s put this all in context and examine show in context to the scratchitti conversation between Trainwreck, et al., that Alex saw on the subway.

In his first statement Trainwreck implies that by having a TV show, Costello has ’sold out,’ and instructs him to “write back when you are cool again.” So, is Trainwreck’s assumption correct? Well, after seeing the show, we can judge his actions and determine how cool Costello still is. During the show he barely spoke, played some songs, and extracted wonderful information from his guest. I would say, YES, he’s still cool and not a sell-out.

But, we should go back to the beginning of his comments, and therefore back to Costello’s beginnings, back to ‘No Action’ and ‘Radio’ to see if Costello has anything from which to sell out. I don’t think it’s inappropriate to say that those songs are Pop Songs, and that he’s a Pop Artist. Pop, by definition, is synonymous with Sell-out (keep in mind, there are no negative connotations with ’sell-out’ in this context). So, Costello couldn’t have sold out if he was always part of the mainstream anyway. That’s the magic of Elvis Costello. He can be a Pop Star and seem like he’s hip and cool and outside the mainstream, but he does so by being part of it. He gets inside, in order to seem outside. A side note: Elvis Costello became big in the 80’s, a decade of over-the-top and decadence and culture to the extreme, so Trainwreck, your argument falls apart.

Next. Trainwreck writes: “But he’s still a big douche in a subway ad. I don’t care if it’s independent, it’s still TV. Smash your TV! Write, create, produce instead of numbing yourself with mind numbing TV.” Once again, he assumes something is bad (like selling out) when it’s actually neither good nor bad, but neutral. This time, it’s television. Television is a medium, and should be blameless for what goes on it. Sure, there are awful programs; an overflow of reality television and poorly written soaps. But there are still great, original programs that can be considered art, whether Trainwreck likes it or not. And, aside from arguing what shows are good and bad, the fact is that ‘television’ as an entity is void of those judgments. It’s simply a medium, a vehicle. Television is a blank canvass, upon which anything can be painted. There are plenty of mind-numbing books, and terrible art. After watching Spectacle, I think it maintains above average credibility, and Costello preserves a wealth of integrity. TV cannot be escaped, and it’s the best medium to reach people, so if you actually want your art to speak to someone, to make people interested and involved, I think an artist should exploit (I use that term in every way) the most usable and accessible medium possible. Trainwreck chose the medium of paper subway ad, and Costello chose TV. Costello probably wins.